just an expression,’ Shelley replied.
Dr Jones pressed a button on the intercom. ‘Nurse Smith, could you come to Dr Jones’ office for an examination please?’
Shelley froze. Examination? Was this to be a physical examination? Worse yet, was she to be searched? Suddenly the BlackBerry in her inside jacket pocket felt enormous, she was sure Dr Jones must be able to see the bulge.
‘It’s a little stuffy in here,’ Shelley said. ‘Do you mind if I remove my jacket?’
‘Not at all,’ Dr Jones said absently, still reading through Shelley’s file.
Shelley stood, took off her jacket and walked over to the hat stand in the corner, she popped the jacket on a hook and sat back down just as the door opened. The plump nurse came in, saw Shelley and rolled her eyes.
Dr Jones looked up. ‘Thank you Sandra, please could you …’ and she waved airily at Shelley.
‘Behind that screen please,’ Sandra said. Shelley did as she asked, terrified she’d notice the jacket and want to check that too.
Behind the screen, Sandra looked her in the eye and whispered, ‘You’d better not look like you’re enjoying this.’
Shelley blinked by way of response.
‘Cos most of your lot do, you know. I’m not here to give you cheap thrills. Now turn around and spread your legs.’
Shelley was too shocked to do anything but obey. Sandra had one of those authoritative voices possessed only by senior nurses and royalty. Shelley heard Sandra’s knees crack and then felt rough hands running up her leg. She found herself wishing she’d shaved. As Sandra’s hand slid between her legs, Shelley tensed and was sure the nurse must realise what she was feeling was the exact opposite of someone enjoying the experience. Surely she’d be found out.
Sandra ran her hands up Shelley’s sides, cupped her breasts and patted down her back.
‘She’s clear,’ the nurse said and stumped off. Shelley straightened herself and went back to Dr Jones’s desk.
Dr Jones suddenly sighed, as if tired of the whole affair. Shelley noticed her eyes flicker to the desk drawer. She pushed a couple of forms over to Shelley. ‘Would you mind signing these?’
‘What are they?’ Shelley asked. Not that she really cared. Aidan would sort out any legal difficulties she got herself into. He’d promised her and though she wasn’t at all happy with her assignment she trusted him to not let her get into any serious difficulties.
‘One’s a Section Four voluntary admission form, the other is for insurance,’ Dr Jones replied, speaking slowly, now openly staring at the desk drawer. Shelley felt as if she were intruding.
She signed the forms and pushed them back.
‘Right, good luck and all that,’ Dr Jones said vaguely. Shelley realised she was expected to leave now.
‘Right. Am I supposed to go to the Mounting Room now?’
Dr Jones peered at her intently, nodding slightly. ‘The Mountain Room, I think.’
‘Ah. That makes more sense,’ Shelley replied, relieved.
‘Downstairs towards the back of the building, follow the signs,’ Dr Jones said as Shelley grabbed her jacket and left.
‘My name is Shelley …’ Shelley was saying. Seven expectant faces looked at her interestedly, urging her on. She paused and looked around at the room. It said ‘Sales Conference’ to her. Bland décor, boring furniture, tedious pictures on the wall. And the inevitable brainstorming pad on an easel.
Verity Parrish coughed beside her.
‘… and I’m a sex addict,’ Shelley finished.
She shrugged and looked around at the group. Everyone wore a name tag. To Shelley’s right sat an attractive if slightly used-looking lady, probably in her forties, called Rose. Shelley vaguely recognised her, she thought, from some long-forgotten tabloid story.
To Shelley’s left was a smooth forty-plus man; his name was Will. Facing her, from left to right, were Abigail, Cliff, Cheryl, Cian, and Larry. Verity hadn’t done formal introductions yet. The idea was that they were all supposed to give a little bit of a self-introduction before the main session got underway. During the course of the next week, each would have to give a full and frank account of why they were here. This would be a no-holds barred descent into the excesses that had led to them deciding they needed help. The magazine wasn’t really interested in how these people might be helped, or what happened to them later. Vixen was after the salacious ‘before’ details, not the more worthy but duller ‘after’ picture.
Shelley tried to inspect her fellow inmates without making it obvious she was doing so. The others all seemed to be doing the same, apart from Larry, who was staring out the window. Shelley reckoned he was the only one younger than her.
Shelley was first to speak that day – she’d agreed to that on condition she’d be last to give her full story, for which she was grateful. She figured she’d have till Friday before she’d have to make her ‘confessional’. The thought of it was already making her nervous. She was rubbish at lying and it wasn’t as if she had any appropriate life experiences to draw on. She was supposed to be a sex-obsessed nurse who’d spent the last eighteen months in Australia. Instead she was a sex-starved journalist who’d spent the last eighteen years in Clapham.
‘Just a little about yourself for now, please Shelley, you don’t need to go into detail just yet,’ Verity said in an encouraging, and slightly patronising, tone.
Shelley took a deep breath and tried to remember the cover story Aidan had put together for her. ‘Er,’ she began. ‘I’m a nurse, and I got in trouble because I slept with a patient.’ She saw Cian nodding at her, grinning; he gave her the thumbs up. ‘Actually, I slept with more than one,’ she said, causing Cliff and Cheryl to prick up their ears. ‘… and also some doctors …’ Will stroked his chin and looked at her legs, ‘… and some nurses …’ Rose raised an eyebrow, ‘… and once a video of me ended up on the internet,’ Larry sat bolt upright, ‘… and then I was found tied to a hospital gurney with some straps, stark naked.’ This last brought interest from Abigail. ‘… and I had to leave the hospital in disgrace.’ She went on. ‘My brother paid for me to come here: he’s trying to stop me dragging the family name through the mud.’
By the time Shelley had finished, all seven of her fellow addicts were gazing at her in various states of interest, from the openly lecherous (Larry) to the disbelieving (Abigail).
‘That’s it,’ Shelley said weakly, and sat down.
‘Thanks Shelley,’ Verity said. ‘Who’d like to go next?’
‘I will,’ said Rose, She had long blonde ponytail, and she had a strong cockney accent, like someone hamming it up on EastEnders. She wore a pair of tight jeans and a top that showed off her considerable cleavage. She didn’t stand, but leaned forward and placed her hands on her knees, as if she’d been preparing this for sometime and wanted to get it just right.
‘I was a porn star,’ Rose said. ‘Some of you might know me – I went by the name Rose Saintly.’
‘Oh yes,’ Cian said. Larry, sitting next to him, nodded as well.
Rose winked at them and continued. ‘All that’s behind me now, at least the film work. I’m too old. Problem is, I developed certain … habits, or shall we say tastes, while I was in the business. And I’ve been indulging them a bit too much in the last few years. I need to break out and have a proper relationship, while there’s still time.’
She sat, and Shelley wondered if she was talking about wanting to have children. She wasn’t sure if the new magazine would be interested in that side of the story, or whether they just wanted the sex stuff. She determined to